Bittersweet Hermione and Draco
by HeatherQuill
Summary: Draco has tormented Hermione all her time at Hogwarts. She despises him, he despises her. She has waited for Ron to come around all her life; and has suddenly realized that he is not the only boy in Hogwarts worth waiting for...
1. Chapter 1

Hermione Granger was one of the most talented witches of her age – she had often been told as much. To her friends, at least; she could govern the complicated world of feelings and emotions, and seemed to be turning into their "girl consultant". Hermione understood both worlds which her life had straddled, and was only just realizing her place in the world.

As Hermione sank down onto her seat, on the Hogwarts express, she surveyed Harry and Ron sitting opposite to her. Friendship…perhaps one of the few areas in which she could actually summarise feelings – the boys had yet to realise that the advice they frequently sought was accurate, but that Hermione had no idea how to apply it to her own situation.

Harry pulled out his wand, and began sliding it up and down in his hand, flicking the splinters at the base back and forth. He had on that glad and lovesick expression he had worn so often last year, when Cho had dated Cedric. Ron was probably the most innocent of the trio – he had not kissed anyone, and was blissfully unaware of Harry's and her own love stories. Indeed, Hermione doubted that if he knew some of the secret moments that she had shared with Viktor Krum, then he would still be behaving as amicably as he was. Ron was so stupid – she had felt very little with Viktor; it had been a last minute, stab at the moment romance, mostly to seek vengeance on Ron for being so slow and unpleasant. Hermione had ideas about how he felt for her – far more than she had for, for how she felt herself, but since he had done nothing about it for four years; she was beginning to cool from her crush. She just had to accept that he wasn't the boy she had imagined him to be.

"Ron!" Her voice broke sharply through the dull atmosphere, and both he and Harry started. "We need to go down to the Prefect's carriage for a moment…" Harry looked glumly back to his wand, and resume his flicking of the splinters. "Maybe you could sit with Ginny, and Luna and Neville?" Harry grunted and gave a noncommittal jerk of the shoulder – but Hermione paid him no heed.

She slid open the glass door, and marched into the corridor, Ron traipsing behind. They didn't talk much, Hermione found it harder and harder to make contact with him when Harry wasn't there; without sounding as though she longed to love him. He acted as the go between, the easer of the awkwardness that they radiated.

The Prefect carriage was more lavishly decorated than the others, and was hung with the school emblem, embossed on royal purple drapes. Several candles hung in the lanterns, giving it a low, romantic note. Hermione avoided Ron's eyes. The others wandered in, all in pairs. Ernie Macmillan and his new girlfriend Hannah; in particular entranced Hermione. She had watched them be friends for years, and it had still worked out for them…Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil – both model students; no surprises in the Ravenclaw house. Hermione was almost certain that Pansy and Blaise from Slytherin would be the Prefects. Both were utterly vile, but neither was as cruel as to abuse the role to the level of physically harming younger students – a trait which Hermione was sure that some would exercise, especially-

"Draco Malfoy! As a Prefect, I must declare that you are not showing much promise…is what Miss Edgecomb says true?"

Pansy put on her best simpering smile. "Oh, of course not ma'am! Draco was with me the whole time!"

Malfoy shuffled a little in his seat. "Yeah, sure!"

McGonagall didn't look convinced. "I suppose that there is no one but Miss Parkinson who could clarify this story?"

Malfoy was positively squirming. He looked sharply at Hermione, and raised his eyebrows, before continuing. "Certainly, we were alone…" Hermione did not notice the look, and would not have interpreted it well if she had. She had spent four years of her schooling being tormented by Draco and his cronies, and never could have guessed the reasons behind it.

Ron was not quite so oblivious. All through McGonagall's long talk, which not even Hermione could object to its being called "tedious"; he shot Draco withering looks – but, considering Pansy had her hands intertwined in his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear, it was unlikely that he noticed. Malfoy did not pay attention to blood traitors, and muggleborns; with the exception of Hermione. For the majority of the populace, he merely ignored them.

Eventually, the Prefects were dismissed, and everyone hurriedly scrambled to their feet, eager not to be caught up in any "forgotten points". Hermione blurted out a "thank you," as she dived out the room, and Ron stumbled after her. All the students sank into a more relaxed pose, and leant against the corridor wall, breathing heavily.

"Well, that was awfully interesting…" Began Ernie, in his usual pompous manner. "I would go as far as to say that-"

"Oh please Ernie! I mean, even you couldn't have found all of the rules and responsibility gaff interesting?"

Ernie was quiet. Eventually, they began to file away, until it was just the Gryffindor couple, and Slytherins. Malfoy sneered.

"Two households, both alike in dignity." Hermione rolled her eyes, and Ron and Pansy did not appear to have understood. They were both from Pure-Blood families, although the same could be said for Malfoy.

"That's ridiculous…" Hermione interjected, her voice a little shriller than needed. It had only been one line. "Two households, both alike in dignity…but Romeo and Juliet breached that gap! I mean just because-" She stopped.

Ron looked inquiringly at her, but she shrugged him off. Pansy looked too bored to quiz Draco. Hermione's face twisted into a confused expression, not a particular visage she often wore.

"See you around mudblood."

Hermione scarcely noticed the insult, as he and Pansy marched off. Draco Malfoy. Romeo and Juliet. Paris. Ron.

Her world was making a sick kind of sense.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was almost certain that she didn't believe in fate. Obviously she was a rational, thinking being; and that meant that in everything she did, she had a choice.

All Draco had done was quoted a line of a play. She had read into that…perhaps she had been right, perhaps not. Being a Pureblood, it was a surprise that Draco had even heard of Shakespeare, let alone read his plays. Maybe it was a ruse; a way to mock her more than ever before…

Even Hermione was aware, that she was a rubbish liar.

She flicked a strand of her hair behind her ear…and fiddled with it. Nobody – or at least Ron – had noticed that it was less bushy. Hermione had no idea why; and it was certainly as curly as ever, but over the summer it had grown to shine and become almost attractive. The carriage seemed as bland as McGonagall's talk had been; but Luna and her absurd ideas, and Neville's toad provided a sort of occupation.

"What was Malfoy on about?" whispered Ron, nudging her. Hermione wanted to forget about her experience more and more, and Ron was being very persistent.

"It was a quote from a play…Romeo and Juliet." Ron jerked his shoulder at her answer, and she knew that he wanted to know more. "Err…it's a play about lo- about death and feud. Feud between Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"He quoted a muggle play, just to tell us that he disliked us? Wow. That is really dedicated…" Ron let it drop, and Hermione breathed out a huge sigh of relief. She didn't want Ron finding out what she suspected… Hermione wasn't sure that he actually believed her, and she didn't really care.

Luna had been surveying her, a mildly disinterested look in her eyes, as though she were contemplating bigger things. "You look as though you were wrapped in thought, but I imagine it might be wrackspurt…Do you need any help?" Luna had a distinct way of stating the obvious, but in strange, and bizarre ways.

Hermione looked back at her, and shook her head. A few minutes later, she stood up. "Er…toilet." Nobody paid any notice, so she just walked out. It was a relief to get into the corridor for a moment – away from Harry and Luna and Neville and Ron. She placed her head in her hands blocking out the light, and just thought. Not of anything in particular. It was bliss to think of nothing; although almost impossible. It had taken her at least three therapy sessions during her SATs to learn how to do it; but she was less of a nerd now too. Exams were important, but not as much as Lord Voldemort being back.

Thoughts shot back into her mind.

Lord Voldemort was back. Hermione had known that he would come back; but had never considered it actually happening. House segregations? Or unity? Depending on the situation, it was almost impossible to tell.

Harry would not appreciate so much as a "Hello" to a Slytherin from her, and if it was to Draco, then he would probably throw them both off the astronomy tower – or, the more likely option; blame Hermione for being such an idiot, and refuse to talk to her. Harry would not like it. Ron would not like it. Friendship from Gryffindor to Slytherin and visa versa was not acceptable.

But for everything, there was a first time.

Was there actually anything wrong with her discovering things about Draco…they could just be friends? Given his lines from the play, it was unlikely – but Hermione was a rational, thinking being, and she had a choice.

Had Hermione known more about emotions, she would have realized that love was one of the most irrational events in the world – both the wizarding and muggle.


	3. Chapter 3

As far as Draco Malfoy, he always noticed Hermione. Although in first and second years it had been mere dislike of her Muggleborn status – he had still not just "passed over" her, like the other mudbloods. Until his fourth year, both he and his friends had put it down to the fact that she was always with Potter, and Weasley. Hermione had always been under his nose. Then again, so had Dean Thomas and all the blood traitors, but they had attracted more than his contemptuous glares.

During the Yule ball, as Hermione had walked down the great hall; her blue dress hovering about her like a hazy cloud – he had suddenly become very aware of her. The way she smiled was almost smug – like she had proved everyone wrong. Indeed, there were now a lot more boys eager to pass her in the corridors again, not that she knew.

Many people had become aware that Ron had not liked watching her dance with Viktor Krum, but Ron himself had done nothing about it since. He had not been the only one.

The fact, however still remained, that Draco was a pureblood, had mocked mudbloods for years and years but now he was almost certain that he liked Granger. Hermione wasn't the type to let something like that pass instantaneously.

_These are dark times._

If there was a war, then they would split onto different sides. Unless he did something about her, then she would follow Harry and Ron, and he would follow his family. His chance would pass. She might marry Weasley or Potter. Maybe have children.

A picture of Hermione in a white dress flashed before his eyes – she was smiling, not in the smirking fashion that she wore after she had one up on him, but the true smile that Draco had never seen directed at him. He yearned for that smile.

The trouble was, Draco was cocky and proud. He wore his blood status like a badge. Everybody knew that he had never had any issue with asking anyone else out before. Therefore, nobody would have any doubt that he disliked her. If he liked her then they would have expected them to already be an item. Draco never dithered.

But none of the other girls Draco had asked out…Millicent, Pansy – had he felt as strongly as he did for Hermione. They were someone to go to the ball with, someone to stand on his arm, someone to kiss in secluded corners...Hermione was someone to talk with, to laugh with and to live forever with. She was a good little girl, he was a bad boy. She was a Gryffindor, he was a Slytherin. They didn't mix. He didn't stand a chance.

This was probably the first time he didn't stand a chance – he had no idea what to go about doing next.

Draco had combed through muggle books all summer, hoping for something subtle to hint to Hermione with. Gone With the Wind, right through to Peter Pan – but nothing had fit. If his father had known the amount of time he had supposedly been flying, had actually been spent in libraries, then Draco had no idea what would have happened. The consequences would have been unpleasant. Had Draco himself known the impact which Romeo and Juliet had on the muggle world, he would have been less likely to choose that particular play. Wrestling with himself, he had found lines easily enough misinterpreted – so that she did not understand herself.

That would have been far, far too scary.

Hermione was not pretty, in the conventional sense. Indeed, until very recently, she had been pretty in fewer ways – with buck teeth, frizzy hair, and frumpy dress sense. She still had frizzy hair, but her teeth were smaller since he had hexed them, and this drew attention to her deep brown eyes and her prettily set lips. Her dress sense was as bad as ever, but now he could see that it hid a beautiful figure. Hermione had never been more attractive, and Weasley was a fool for not seeing that.

Draco was glad Weasley didn't though. As an ambitious Slytherin, he was not one to give him a poke in the right direction. Quite the contrary.

He was going to revel in his ignorance.


End file.
